Freya Anderson and The Drakon Plot
by Detri54
Summary: This is my first story, set in the spring before the Battle of the Labyrinth. Freya Anderson arrives at camp where she meets new friends and monsters, as well as learning some secrets about her family past


**Authors notes:**

**A lot of this story is set in America at Camp Half-Blood. I have never actually visited America so I apoligise if setting descriptions aren't accurate.**

**This story is set during the British Easter holidays which are usually around April time. I'm not sure if other countries have the same holiday so that's when it is if you were wondering.**

**If you have time please review, it would help me a lot. Also any better suggestions for titles will be greatly appriciated. **

**Thank you**

**Chapter 1**

Maria had discovered that following her nose could get her into a lot of trouble.

Over the past few days she'd been following a scent she'd first picked up off the east coast of Spain...and now it had led her here.

Edinburgh.

Capital of Scotland, famous for festivals, population 850,000 and completely new to Maria.

Maria was always travelling to new places nowadays. In the last three months she'd been to vast rain forests, scorching deserts, boggy wastelands and treacherously high mountains. She'd followed maps, directions, advice and (most importantly) her nose.

And she'd still found nothing.

Trail after trail had led to nothing but dead ends and danger.

"Well" she thought, "no one ever said finding a god was going to be easy."

Maria gazed out over the front of the ship as Leith Docks drew closer through the drizzly fog. She'd boarded the Marco Polo one day ago when it had docked in Spain. She'd just had yet another fruitless journey, this time into the Spanish wilderness and narrowly escaped a deadly encounter with some magical, fireball-throwing cacti. It was when she arrived, safe but singed, at the docks that she had first picked the strange smell. A bit of sneaking around, nature magic and a tiny drop of tinkering with the Mist had secured her an overnight space on the good ship Marco Polo.

Maria sniffed the air. Mixed in with the smell of salty sea air, motors and ships cafeteria food was a smell that was completely unexpected in the environment she was in.

It was the smell of lush meadows, fresh flowers and unpolluted woodland. It was the scent of fresh, clean air and clear water. It was the smell of nature as it should be.

In other words, it was the smell of the wild.

Pan.

Maria felt a thrill of excitement run through her veins. She couldn't believe she might have actually found something important at last.

The ship bumped gently against the dock and the gangplank was lowered with an almighty crash. Maria picked up her backpack and swung it across her back, then pulled up her hood, carefully concealing the tiny horns that grew out of her curly red hair.

"I will find him," she promised herself.

Checking her fake feet were safely secured, Maria trotted down the gangplank and into Edinburgh.

The rain dripped slowly at first, then erupted all at once into a torrential downpour. Freya Anderson felt the first drops tap on her head and quickened her pace. Her feet sloshed trough muddy puddles and the icy raindrops soaked through her school uniform to her skin. She hurried across the road and down a side street, Leith Docks just visible through the rain.

Freya broke into a run. The rain plastered her brown hair to her skull and made her slip on the pavement with every step. She ducked her head, turned the corner and ran straight into somebody. She stumbled backwards and sat down hard in a puddle.

"Woah there! You alright?"

Freya looked up. The somebody she had ran straight into was a girl, probably about three or four years older than Freya. She had the hood of her mac pulled up and a large backpack hanging on her shoulders. She was offering a hand to Freya, her hazel-brown eyes filled with concern.

Freya took the proffered hand and the girl helped her to her feet.

Now she was standing, Freya could see lots of weird things were strapped to the girls backpack. Was that a sword? No, Freya decided, it must just be a sleeping mat.

"Thanks," Freya said.

"No prob-" the girl cut off her own sentence with an abrupt sniff. Her hazel eyes grew wide and she stared at Freya with amazement. "Pan," she said, wonder making her voice tremble.

"What?" said Freya blankly.

"Pan!" she said again a grin spreading across her face. She took another sniff, then frowned. "No..." she murmured to herself, "half-blood." Her faced furrowed in confusement. "Pan or half-blood?" she asked herself in a mutter. She locked eyes with Freya and directed her next question towards her.

"What are you?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Freya started to turn away. "Sorry, I don't think I can help you." Freya continued down the alley towards her flat.

"Hey, wait!" The girl called after her. Freya turned back around. The wind had blown the girls hood down to reveal reddish hair. Her face was a jumble of emotions; curiosity, puzzlement and a hint of excitement.

"My name's Maria" she said. "Maria Walker. Just remember that in case you need me"

Freya nodded, then sprinted away. Her hands were trembling slightly, though she wasn't sure if it was from fear or excitement. Because in the moment that the strange girls hood was down, Freya could have sworn she saw a pair of horns, poking out the top of her curly hair.

Freya took the stairs up to her top floor flat three at a time. Her footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell. She reached her flat and bustled inside shutting out the cold behind her. She was completely drenched and freezing, but the flat was warm and cosy.

"I'm home!" she called.

She heard a muffled response from somewhere in the flat.

Freya kicked off her shoes and padded through to the kitchen. The kitchen table was strewn with wires, circuit boards, little LED lights and a vast assortment of tools. It looked a bit like a hardware shop had exploded.

Freya pulled her school bag off her back and reached inside. She pulled out a large brown envelope. Her school report.

Freya used to dread getting her school report, but after ten years of schooling she'd discovered that it would always say the same thing;

Freya's reading skills are lacking. Freya needs to concentrate more in class. Freya is clever but still struggles with focus problems.

The only class Freya was ever any good at in school was music. She sucked at everything else. Being ADHD and dyslexic was probably to blame.

Freya set the envelope down on a clear space of the table, grabbed an apple, and wandered into her bedroom. She quickly changed into clean, dry clothes and slumped on her bed. Like the rest of the flat her room was cluttered but homely. Posters and photographs covered the walls. There was a desk in the corner, piled high with old school jotters, paperback novels and other junk. Propped next to the desk was a guitar. Freya picked it up, strummed a few chords and thought over what had happened on her way home.

Maybe the girl, Maria, could have been acting, advertising a show or something. Maybe she was just pulling a practical joke. Freya just tried to put the whole experience out of her mind.

There was a soft knock at the door. Freya looked up as her Uncle Ian opened the door and popped his head inside.

Freya had always lived with Ian, ever since her parents had died in a car accident when she was three. Ian was her mother's brother, and he shared Freya's brown hair and dark blue eyes. Ian was a journalist and he wrote weekly columns for a local newspaper. He had a love for tinkering with computers, a passion that Freya didn't share.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Freya set down her guitar and nodded. Ian came in and perched on the end of her bed. Freya's report was clasped in his hand. Freya knew what was coming. Ian was never angry about the bad reports but felt like it was his duty to talk about them with Freya.

"So," he began. "Your report."

He waited for Freya to reply. When she didn't he sighed. "Look Freya, I know you find school difficult, but you've got to really try."

"I do," Freya insisted.

"I know you do," Ian said with a sad smile. "Anyway," he continued. "First day of the holidays!"

In all the excitement that had happened during her journey home, Freya had almost forgotten that the Easter holidays had started today.

"I was thinking we should get a carry out to celebrate. How about pizza?"

"Pizza sounds good to me," Freya smiled back at Ian.

"I'll go order it."

Ian stood to leave. As he reached the door he turned, a mixture of sadness and pride on his face that Freya had never seen before.

"You're so like you're mum Freya. I know she would be as proud of you as I am."

The door clicked closed behind him and Freya sat back, lost in thought.

Most of the time Freya and Ian never talked about Freya's mum Sophie. Freya knew that Ian found it too painful. Ian wouldn't even mention her dad either, always giving short, simple answers to Freya's questions.

Freya remembered the time she had asked Ian what her dad's name was. Ian hadn't answered for ages, as though he wasn't sure what answer to give to such a simple question. Eventually he had given a sort of resigned sigh and answered "Fred". And that had been the end of that conversation.

Freya didn't know why Ian was reluctant to talk about her dad but she had a suspicion. Freya thought that Ian might blame her dad for her mum's death. It was an absurd theory when she thought about it though and Freya had never gotten up the courage to ask Ian if her suspicions were true.

The doorbell rang, shattering Freya's thoughts like glass. She glanced at her watch. Only five minutes since Ian had phoned the pizza delivery service with their order.

"That was quick," Freya muttered to herself. She walked from her bedroom and to front door. She pulled the door... and stopped. Instead of the pizza delivery man Maria Walker was standing in her doorway, panting as though she had run a long distance.

"I'm really sorry to bother you again," Maria said, nervous urgency in her voice. "But you're in grave danger."


End file.
